


Lost Boy

by theableboy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cigarettes, M/M, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Suicidal Thoughts, Weecest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-12 00:51:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11726091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theableboy/pseuds/theableboy
Summary: Sam want’s to run, but his feet feel glued to the ground and his mouth feels too dry to say anything.





	Lost Boy

Sam dreams:

There’s a pond of floating bodies. The pond is stained black but the sky is blacker, the sky is as dark as Sam has ever seen.

He creeps behind trees, hides behind bushes. 

Sam’s heart is racing, amok with adrenaline.

In the pond, where the bodies float, Sam notices one body with its eyes open wide. He can see the ribs expanding rapidly underneath tar coated flesh. 

He runs.

And then he stops.

The body stands, the body of his brother. The water is pushing with force around him, trying to swim down his throat. He smiles up at him, holds out his burnt hand, the fingers distorted and broken. His brother is reaching, begging with dire intentions. 

Sam falls on his hands and knees, molten lava diving its way into his skin. He throws up.

The next minute, he’s awake. His brother is behind him in bed, abnormally hot, his chest pressed into his back as if he were trying to fit himself inside. As if he had the infatuation to take a knife there, tear off the skin, break his spine, and crawl inside.

He closes his eyes, but he doesn’t let himself fall back asleep.

Instead, there’s a hand, rough and dry, inching its way up his naked chest. Sam’s breath hitches, his brother’s -- sighs.

“Sammy?” the hand squeezes his arm, it's gentle, manipulating him to stay silent. “Sammy, it was just a dream, just a bad dream. It’s alright.” 

His neck is kissed.

“It’s okay now. I’m here.”

Eventually Sam falls back asleep.

~~

 

In the morning, the motel sign flickering from outside, casts a dancing light parade against their curtains. Sam sits on the bed, shoes not yet on his feet, and watches. Dean is beside him, smoking a cigarette, arm around his shoulder, head resting on his own. 

“You feeling better this morning, sweetheart?” 

Sam shrugs, turns a little, invites Dean in. 

His lip is bitten, a tongue is forced inside. There’s a hand on the inside of his thigh, it leaves a path of indents, nail piercing scars. It reaches for his skin. It travels up and up until it finds what it wants.

“You’re so hard for me, baby boy, aren’t you?”

Sam nods his head vigorously. 

Dean pulls away, suddenly, sighs, closes his eyes, “I can’t. We don’t have time. Dad will be back anytime now.” 

Sam puts his shoes on and doesn’t say a word. 

The curtains are opened. Sam’s head falls to his chest, as if the entire time it were only held up by a string. Controlled like a puppet. 

He doesn’t know why and he can’t figure it out, but Sam feels broken. 

Sam feels like he could die tomorrow, tie a noose around the ceiling fan and let himself dangle there, somehow sure that the world would continue to survive without him. 

“Sam?” 

Sam looks up, smiles because he feels like he has to.

“You doin’ alright? You look like… I don't know.. Sad?” 

Sam smiles again, “I’m fine, Dean. I’m alright. Please don’t worry.”

Dean pushes the butt of his cigarette into the curtains and doesn't say a word.

Sam get up, walks to his brother and wraps his arms around his front, clasps them together to keep them as one, “I love you, Dean. I’m sorry I can be so much sometimes.”

“Shut up.”  
There’s evidence of a storm outside, the cars are buried in puddles. 

Dean turns around, lifts Sam into his arms, and Sam, with instinct, curls his legs around his brother’s waist. Presses his face into the neck that smells too much of vodka and weed for that of a 17 year old.

“Wanna fool around later?”

Sam giggles, shyly hiding his blush deeper away into the freckled skin.

“Yeah, Dean. Please.” 

He’s set down after he's pampered with kisses. 

The door is creaked open. Sam just stands there listening to the people outside and the fall of his brothers feet drifting further away with each step taken.

The door is shut, Sam closes his eyes and tries not to cry.

~~

 

At noon, Sam walks down to the corner store. He grabs a packet of ramen, a loaf of bread and a coca-cola. 

The cashier is eyeing him in a way that makes his skin crawl. Licking his lips and latching onto his bottom lip with the few teeth he has in his mouth. 

Sam tries not to stare, tries to look anywhere else. 

“Yer a pretty boy, anyone ever tell you that?” 

Sam feels nauseous.

His items are being scanned, placed in a bag, kept behind the register and out of Sam’s reach. Sam want’s to run, but his feet feel glued to the ground and his mouth feels too dry to say anything.

“You scared of me, little one?” 

The store is empty. 

There’s thunder in the distance. The storm is returning.

 

Sam doesn’t return to the motel by the time Dean get’s back.


End file.
